Mabel's Mistake Part 68

Ben drew the back of one hand across his eyes and dropped into his lounging att.i.tude again.

"But, yet, she had one friend, Mister Ralph."

"And, who was that?"

"Ben Benson--as carried her up to that ere identical door-step, and laid her down like the babes in the woods--a knowing in his heart all the time, that Mrs. Harrington would take her in the minute she sot her eyes on her purty face."

"You know who she was, then?"

"I ought to," answered Ben, "for she was my own sister's child."

"Your sister's child!"

"You wouldn't a belaved it; for the mother of that gal was like a water lily, fresh from the pond, when I run away from hum and went to sea."

"Well," said Ralph, breathless.

"The old man died a little while after I ran off, and so the poor little thing was left alone, to fight her way through the world. She had more larning than ever could be driv into my brain, and went into a rich man's family to larn his children their letters. There was a young feller in that house, as was likewise given to larning, a sickly, pale chap, just a going into consumption. This chap loved the orphan gal, and as her hard-hearted brother had deserted the helm, he stepped in and took the craft amost without a summons."

"They got married somewhere down in York, and in less 'en three months arter, the poor, young feller died--neither on 'em had plucked up courage enough to tell the proud, old father, and the young man was took off so suddenly at last, that he hadn't no chance."

"Lizzy was obliged to speak out arter this, but the certificate was amongst his things, and the old folks pretended that it never could be found. She didn't know where to find the minister as married 'em, and so her husband's own father turned her out of doors. When I came ash.o.r.e two years arter, no one could tell me where she had gone; but a few months arter I cast anchor in this ere land-craft, my poor sister came here one night, leading a toddling little girl by the hand. That gal was Lina. My sister's face was white as foam, when she came in. I asked her about the child, and she told me what I have been a telling you. In the night she went away. I had fell asleep, leaning against the wall, and didn't know she was agoing. The baby was left behind on the husk-bed.

"The next thing, my sister wandered back to the lonesome place, where she and her baby had lived together, and without telling any one that she was sick, lay down and died.

"Ben Benson sat in his cabin all that day, and the little child went out and in like a lonesome bird, now a picking posies from the bank and agin crying by the cabin door. That miserable old feller never had but one guardian spirit on arth, and that ere night he thought of her, while the baby lay hived up in his bosom. So he took the child up as if it had been a little helpless lamb, and laid it down where that ere angel could find it."

"And this was Lina!" exclaimed Ralph, with tears in his eyes. "I thank you, Ben."

"You know this--you are certain of her ident.i.ty?" said James Harrington.

"I am sartin that she's my own sister's darter, and can swear to it afore G.o.d and man," was Ben's solemn reply. "But where is the gal? Is she found--will she come back--does she know as this ere old chap is her uncle?"

"She knows nothing," said Ralph, shaking the hand which Ben extended while propounding these eager questions. "She is yonder in the sleigh, Ben--no, not yet; she is ill, and the least excitement may do harm. Go and find us an entrance to the house; we have tried the doors, but no one seems astir--my fa--the General, is not home, I suppose"----

"No," answered Ben, believing what he said; "I haven't seen the General about these four days."

"And my mother?" inquired Ralph.

"She's sartain to be there, poor lady," answered Ben, shaking his head sorrowfully.

"Yes, yes, she's pining about Lina, but that will soon be over--bless the dear girl--on second thought, if my mother is ill, I had better go myself; some of the servants must be up by this time. See, there she is, Ben, in the sleigh, m.u.f.fled up in furs, poor little birdie. Go speak to her, but remember she is feeble as a babe, so be very quiet."

"You can trust old Ben Benson for that ere," cried the boatman, looking eagerly towards the sleigh; but with the first glance great tears came chasing each other down his cheeks, and all unconsciously he held out both arms, shouting, "my own, own little gal!"

There was a struggle in the sleigh, and with low murmurs of delight, Lina held forth her hand.

"Remember and keep cool," said Ralph; then turning towards James, he said, "drive to the door, I will soon rouse the household."

With these words he strode towards the house, eager to carry glad tidings to his mother.

CHAPTER Lx.x.xI.

THE MANIAC.

All night long the slave woman crouched down in the middle of her bed, with the blankets drawn over her like a tent, and her eyes looking out into the darkness, waiting for the morning, and yet shrinking with terror whenever a gleam of light appeared. At last, when the morning broke, grey and cold, she crept forth in her clothes--as she had been all night--and stood for a time listening as if she expected some unusual sound. But all was still, no servant was yet abroad, and she sat down upon the bed, waiting with a dull heavy gleam of the eye that had something awful in it. At last she was aroused by a loud ring at the hall door, which brought a smothered scream to her lips; but she arose and went down stairs, opening the door with a sort of mechanical composure. Ralph Harrington stood upon the threshold, and a little way off winding up the circular carriage sweep was a sleigh, in which she discovered James Harrington and the pale face of Lina. The sight made her tremble in every limb, and her eyes were terrible to look upon.

"Is my mother up yet?" said Ralph, without regarding the woman, who did not answer, for her teeth chattered when she made the attempt.

"Well, then we must arouse her; of course the fires are kept up such nights as this; take Miss French to the breakfast-room while I inquire for Mrs. Harrington."

But Lina would not be restrained: joy at the sight of that dear old home gave her temporary strength; she ran up the steps, pa.s.sing James and Ralph, in the speed of her love.

"No, no, I _cannot_ wait. Let me go to her room. I will awake her as of old with my kisses--they will not frighten her."

Before the sentence was finished, Lina had reached the door of Mabel's boudoir, and throwing it open, flew into the bed-room. A close stifling vapor enclouded her as she entered, but in the ardor of her love she rushed through it, flung back the bed-curtains, and throwing her arms over the sleeper there cried out----

"Mamma, awake! it is Lina--your own Lina come back to live at home, mamma--mamma"--

The last word died away in an exclamation of horror, for the face she touched was cold as marble, and she fell forward struggling for breath.

Ralph had followed her to the door, and lingered there, waiting for his mother to summon him, but there was something in the atmosphere which crept through into the hall that awoke his apprehension, this was increased by Lina's sudden silence.

With a quickened beat of the heart he went in, but a stifling haze filled the room, which was so dark that he could only see Lina, lying motionless across the bed. He rushed to the window and tore back the curtains, filling the room with a dull luminous fog, through which he saw Lina, pale as marble, and gasping for breath, but with her eyes wide open, and fixed on the face of his father.

"My G.o.d--oh, my G.o.d! what is this?" he cried, staggering forward.

"It is your father, Ralph, cold as death."

Ralph uttered a cry so sharp and piercing that it reached James and Benson, who came in alarm from the breakfast-room--nay, it penetrated farther, and aroused Mabel from her comfortless sleep in the chamber above. She arose with a thrill of unaccountable awe, and glided down the stairs, pa.s.sing the mulatto chambermaid, who stood motionless as a bronze statue outside the door. As the woman saw her she gave a cry and her eyes dilated with unspeakable horror; slowly, as if she had been forced into motion by some irresistible power, she turned and followed after Mabel, step by step, till both stood in the room of death. The eyes of those two women fell on the dead body of General Harrington at the same moment; Mabel burst into tears. The mulatto seemed turning to stone--she did not breathe, she did not move, but stood with her lips apart, helpless, speechless, stricken with a terrible horror.

James Harrington saw the furnace standing on the hearth with a handful of white ashes at the bottom.

"It is the fumes of charcoal--he has been smothered--who brought this here?" he exclaimed, looking at the woman.

If he expected to see that ashen grey upon her cheek, which is the nearest approach to pallor that her race can know, he was disappointed.

She neither changed color nor moved, but a gleam of horrible intelligence came into her eyes, and as her lips closed, a faint quiver stirred them.

She did not heed his question, but turned in silence and went out.

Half an hour after, when the first great shock was over, and James Harrington sent to have the movements of this woman watched, she was nowhere to be found. The servants had seen a handsome and richly dressed lady pa.s.s through the front door, and walk swiftly toward the highway.

The chambermaid could not have pa.s.sed without being observed. Yet no human being ever saw her afterward.